


Murderer's Row

by SunlitGarden, theheavycrown



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, Dark, Everyone is a Murderer, Ficlet Collection, Matricide, Mental Instability, Murder, Murderers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Patricide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:24:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheavycrown/pseuds/theheavycrown
Summary: Riverdale's darling inhabitants reimagined as famous serial killers.





	1. Betty Borden

**Author's Note:**

> theheavycrown demanded darkness and so it must be DELIVERED TO THE WORLD! She is responsible for this brain child and did all the delicious graphics whereas Sunlit Garden aka @lovedinapastlife took the reigns on the written scenes. It's been such a fun collaboration and we hope you enjoy it too!

_ _

_ We must do better. _

“You’re right,” Betty murmurs, turning from her pale reflection in the blood-spattered glass to eye the strangely balanced stain spreading on the rug, not unlike the one left by the body she’d helped her mother hide not-so-long ago.

It was blooming art—reminiscent of an ink blot the Sisters of Quiet Mercy had flashed in front of her after they’d pumped her full of poison and doubt.

Her scabbed scars shift under the pressure of the wood handle.

A splintered family manifested in cracked skulls and flesh.

She can’t decide who struck the hardest, let alone who had delivered the first blow. Her mother, who stole her inheritance, who made her doubt her self-worth and mind, or her father, who planted the seeds of violence in their homes and hearts with his selfish sickness, the one that almost claimed Betty’s soulmate and life.

_ No, _ she decides. _ It won’t be even. _ She steps over her father’s body and raises the axe.

_ One more strike for the Black Hood. _

_ One more strike for Betty Borden. _

The impact shivers back through her limbs.

_ Never again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos for the killers, comments on what slayed ;) Updates once a day until all are posted. Guess who's next (both character and alias) in the comments if you dare!


	2. Jug the Ripper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A delectably dark and twisted world made in a creative collaboration by theheavygarden. Words by Sunlit Garden aka @lovedinapastlife and graphics by theheavycrown.

_ _

The air burns until all Jughead tastes is ash. He’s gone through  _ so many  _ of them and he still hasn’t  _ found it. _

A madame slinks up for the first leg of her shift, not-so-subtly appraising him for potential cash as she fishes out her own dirty habit.

“Need a light?”

With an appreciative gleam in her eyes, the madame places a taste of death between her lips.

Poison does seem like the right way to lure the vultures of this town to a secret floor of the Pembrook. There’s no need to charm or touch her as they continue each of their private games.

“Do you have any girls that are pregnant?”

She blows a plume of smoke into his face. “You into that?”

There’s something in his pocket, long and penetrative, and he cracks a smile at the way her eyes widen, at the pun of the situation.

_ Murder kink _ isn’t on the menu—not really. But he’ll do anything for his beloved.

Once he’s wet his appetite for the inner workings of the mind (leaving the intestines to the side), he wipes his knife and swears, taking another drag.

None of the bodies have felt real or right under his hands—not like his precious lover. These serpents in the night try to tempt him into providing blackmail ammunition against his love  _ and  _ his livelihood.

He doesn’t care about their flesh. He’s searching for a baby to give to his soulmate as a present—to close the nightmare chapter of her father’s indiscretions.

With all the clients of the Maple Club, he figures  _ one  _ of them has to have it—Hal’s child, the last living member of the Cooper clan. No more haunting siblings. No more darkness. Not unless she asks for it.

He peels the madame’s skin in a long strip and wonders how much he could get for it. The notoriety is priceless. No one knows  _ what _ he is. The Register is dead, along with those in its employ—taken by him, by the new games he and his sweetheart love to play. His love,  _ his Betty _ would never again have to choose between leaving him or risking his blood on her crescent-marked hands.

His knife sinks into soft flesh, carving out a love letter of a strange and brutal design.

_ Not this one. But I’ll find it. _

_ Don’t worry, Betty. _

_ They won’t catch me. _

_ Not unless I let them. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos for the killers, and comments for what slayed ;) Did you get your guess correct for chapter two? What character do you think will be preforming wicked deeds next? Any _stabs_ at their murdery moniker? Let us know in the comments if you dare!


	3. Countess Cheryl Blossom Bathory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon-compliant "soulmate" Blossom twin vibes ahead. Yaaaay.

_ _

Women have long been considered the origin of sin, of life, of beauty, Cheryl thinks, sampling a dark drop of her youthful baptism. The syrup from her lipstick edges the copper taste into a tangy sort of sweetness. Feeding her darlings sweets and sex adds a wonderful sense of chaos to the occasion. Usually, all it takes is some mild suggestion they will be sated with some measured slits to their skin and they’re ready to be tied up and played with. The screams she promises echo off the chamber walls, changing in pitch and intensity until they’re too drained to do more than croak.

No one, aside from the noble Blossom clan, knows what it takes to preserve oneself—the sacrifices one must make. Antoinette might know _something_ happens to all the girls she interviews as handmaidens, the ones who don’t emerge from the dungeon. Sometimes Cheryl gets the sense the girl knows why her nails are always red, why there’s an ethereal suppleness to her skin. As a former outcast, Toni understands the importance of self-preservation. She knows how to keep a secret. For now, Toni can stay.

From the shadows of the claw-footed tub, Cheryl’s brother is a beacon in his white, bloody, Sunday best.

_ Take her._ _ I’m impatient._

Carefully perching between his legs, Cheryl feels like they’re making their own womb, more prepared for their entry to the world. Tonight, she’s bare, wearing nothing but her stained, satin high heels. This feels so _ them,_ so _natural_ and _ intimate._

“Bath time, JayJay! Open wide,” she teases, yanking the rigged bucket she sometimes uses for water boarding to pour the essence of the living onto herself and her other half. Blood clings to her lips and hair, dripping in giant, gleeful gobs that smear with the sharp brightness of broken cherries.

It splats with a triumphant, glowing glare.

She’s always loved the slick embrace of scarlet.

Another successful harvest.

Another splendid tap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't reading that just make you wanna take a bath? A real one. With soap. And floofy loofas. We're halfway down the row with three more murderers to go. Hope you enjoy and let us know how the vibes strike you!


	4. Reginald H. Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charm and greed ends in nefarious deeds ahead.

_ _

Glory was to be had at the fair: America’s first motorcar, the Venus de Milo made of chocolate, and Reggie Holmes (formerly Mantle), mastermind extraordinaire. 

The Columbian Exposition—later known as the World Fair—draws suckers in by the thousands and Reginald takes them in any way he can.

Success can be a lot of things to a lot of different men, but to Reginald, it’s innovation. When he built shops with soundproof apartments above, he knew the “hotel” would be the first of its kind—with trap doors and a crematorium for easy access. The money to be made off of guests’ bones and insurance scams would more than make up for the reasonable rates. 

After all, the turnover rate is pretty quick once he gets what he needs—seduction, torture, and, most importantly, a profit. 

Some payoffs are worth the risk.

Reggie’s used to luring folks into complacency, blessed with a silver tongue and a habit of seeming just slick enough to be charming and not enough to be a threat. Devils make great salesmen, and always have, just like dear old “conman” dad. That’s just what people called charming, strong, creative businessmen who got the upper hand.

Although he enjoys the way he can make a woman gasp for breath in bed, or through a chloroform rag, it’s nice to have a more constant confidante and companion. Wives are fun for a time. Long-term friends are harder to come by.

His accomplice seems fine with skimming a little off the top, well-fed on “enhancements” to enjoy with his girlfriend or boyfriend of the moment. But lately, Marmaduke’s been getting lazy, snacking on the phony pharmaceuticals and having trysts with the guests when he’s supposed to be watching the front desk. It’s opportunity theft. Who knows what else he’s letting slip when he’s mixing business and pleasure? At this point, he’s more valuable dead.

Not that Reggie blames him. Marmaduke’s indulgence is probably something akin to his own urges—to strike, to kill. A constant shadow just waiting to pounce. Peeling and polishing bones gives him the same compulsive ecstasy as rolling in money or engaging in play with the opposite sex.

As he leads Marmaduke to the cellar for a nightcap, he mixes a little something special into his drink in celebration.

_ To the next business venture. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had you heard of the Devil in the White City with his Murder Castle? Let us know what you thought of Reginald and Marmaduke!


	5. Black Widow Veronica Lodge

Diamonds are forever and marriage isn’t, one of the great things about prenups and inheritances. 

Veronica got a bit of a reputation as a heartbreaker, so she had to change her name every couple of weddings. Monica Posh. Veronica Cotton. Cecilia Gomez. At heart, though, she’ll always be a Lodge—a girl who makes an entrance. She doesn’t have sleeves to wear her heart on—just a cape to distract the hungry bulls, the hard men who can’t resist the glossy black promise of a challenge.

They die in a myriad of ways—heart attacks, overdoses, and “accidents,” but the worst of them still lives. No charges seem to stick to anyone attached to the Lodge name. When her father goes to prison it does nothing but add security so he can enjoy his shadowy dealings. 

Hiram Lodge never sends her anything for the wedding, but he always gives her a new pearl necklace for the funeral. It feels like he’s proud of her. Her mother’s proud too, for never letting a man own her, just letting them _ think _they do.

“It’s all about power and the illusion of it,” they told her.

She strips down to the basics: a little black dress and a vial of arsenic.

The diamond stays on the bedside table.

In three more weeks, her father will send pearls and her mother will send her stockings. Acquiring their assets will thicken this polished gossamer.

_ It’s just one more crooked man caught in her ever-growing web. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the Lodges would be proud of their smart, resourceful daughter for her rate of acquisition, even if their awful relationship was what planted the twisted seed in the first place. I'll be the first to say I'd be happy for her to take Nick St. Claire off the market, though, in her own special way ;) One left! Happy Halloween and hope these are a treat! Comments appreciated, my friends.


	6. Sweet Pea the Impaler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our final Murderer is on the row.

_ _

Hostages don’t interest him. He knows what it’s like to be one. Instead, he hunts them—impales them, squirming and breathless and gurgling the moment he breaks through the other side with the blunt crunch of metal and bone. No more resistance. A blatant, spiked sign of what will happen to any ghoulish foes that come into his land and challenge his reign, his  _ people _ .

It takes force. 

It takes blood and a little chaos. 

Sweet Pea is more than willing to provide.

Malachai’s painted face is already half sunken into the grave when he smiles, blood dripping down his lip. One hand curled around the spear punctured through his gut, he attempts to find the familiarity of his mace in the other hand. He understands.

Anyone who faces Sweet Pea is fighting a dragon.

Sweet Pea lights a torch and heads for the house of the dead.

_ Time to burn the shell and stab the rest of these maggots. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a wicked time with these wicked fiends. They were eerie, unsettling, and drenched in darkness (thanks to the bewitching words of sunlitgarden/@lovedinapastlife - and the glorious graphics of theheavycrown - and we're supposed to take turns writing these notes but SOMEONE snuck in to add this part mwahahaha). Thank you for spending some time with our row of Riverdale murderers. We hope you enjoyed your time with them as much as we did. Leave a comment and let us know how you felt about all their deadly deeds!


End file.
